


You Were My Brother, Anakin

by jujuDCEU



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Force Voyeurism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealousy, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Masturbation, Oedipal Issues, Other, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Unrequited Crush, Very Secret Diary, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujuDCEU/pseuds/jujuDCEU
Summary: AU where Qui Gon Jinn lives, but Obi Wan decides to train Anakin anyway.As Anakin matures, he begins to realize that his master is actually quite handsome...It's normal, right? Well, in the span of two days, his 'normal' turns into anything but.Post PM, Pre-AOTC.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 69
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

One day, Anakin just became tired of trailing behind his master like some pet, while his master walked alongside his. It wasn’t fair. Anakin had always been a clingy, jealous padawan. His blood would simmer when Obi Wan would leave him to attend to whatever business masters got into, and wouldn’t return for hours. Obi Wan dedicated all of the Coruscant day to his padawan, but it wasn’t enough for Anakin. Those times when it was time to rest, he would lay awake, hoping his master would come to his quarters, even just to check on him. Alas, he never did. 

Overtime, he had so much alone time to think, that he had created his own version of Obi Wan in his mind. The only way he could sleep was making up those scenarios in his mind, scenarios where Obi Wan never left his side, treated him like the growing man he was and not an irresponsible child, and where Obi Wan would simply confide in him. 

But the real Obi Wan felt so far away. Anakin felt emotionally neglected by his master, as he was always put second to Qui Gon. He developed a hatred for the man who freed him. Qui Gon was always the reason Obi Wan had to go. They were still oddly close, for a former master and padawan. Anakin wished Qui Gon would just go and find his own new apprentice, that way he wouldn’t meddle in his and Obi Wan’s time. 

Naturally, Anakin couldn’t voice such complaints, as he knew it would sound strange. His only outlets were pieces of parchment and a pen, only because he felt disconnected when typing on a datapad. Since he started documenting his emotions, he had racked up over forty sheets of parchment, covered back and front with his intentionally illegible writing. When he was especially angry, he wrote about the sick things he would do to Qui Gon, along with rudimentary visuals. He wished that man was dead, and tears ran down his face with frustration. 

Now, walking behind the man he wanted more respect from and the man who was in their way, Anakin began to ponder about carrying out one of his twisted fantasies on the tall, long haired man, the one where he would just swiftly slash through him with his lightsaber. Qui Gon wouldn’t see it coming. He would cut him right through his last and second to last ribs, leaving his legs to wobble before crashing down after the most of his upper half had already hit the floor. It all seemed so easy. 

The two masters turned to face the padawan, coming to a full stop. The sandy blond was so deep in thought, that he kept walking until he collided with their bodies. He was red down the shoulders. He prayed that they hadn’t sensed any of his malice. 

“Yes, Master?”

“You may go back to your quarters for the day, Anakin.” Obi Wan spoke. “It seems I’ve come down with a migraine.”

“What? It isn’t even midday yet! We didn’t even start today’s training.” the teen protested. At this point, it wasn’t even about his master leaving him again, training was the only thing that distracted him from his own mind. He _needed_ to spar today of all days; he was running out of vent paper. “Why can’t you just go to medbay and get something for your head? Training is...it’s essential to my knighthood, I can’t miss a whole day.” he tried to reason. 

“I promise you, Padawan, we will make it all up tomorrow. I just need to rest.”

And that was the final word before he walked off with Qui Gon. Anakin scowled at the larger man as he paced away with _his_ teacher.  
He turned, robe shifting dramatically with his movement, and made his way to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin needs to waste time until tomorrow

Anakin sat at his desk which was sprawled with his papers and other trinkets. He was too angry to write and made a mess of his quarters instead. He couldn’t focus on anything besides his master. It was a physical toll to be apart from him. He had no way to get it out of his system. The paper needed to be saved for a more trying time, he had enough essays on this recurring situation. Training was something he looked so forward to. He had Obi Wan all to himself, nothing could take his master’s attention away, and Anakin would return to his quarters content after all the grappling, and the pinning, and the sweating. If he had that, he would have no need staying up late, yearning for a release or waiting for his master to come in and sit next to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and lay him down himself, in which Anakin would pull him down along with him, leading to something Anakin could only dream of. 

Looking down in his lap, Anakin found a way to pass the time until tomorrow. Although, pleasuring himself was always something he did warily. He came up with the idea that his master could sense what he was doing. Obi Wan was probably resting now, so it would be a good time. Still, he felt embarrassed that his day he came down to this, once again. It was the third time this week. He decided to be productive afterwards, and rebuild a model ship he had torn apart. 

Using the Force, he locked the panel on his door. His tent was barely pitched despite all of the mental images of his master flashing through his mind’s eye. He sighed pitifully, and slipped his hand down into his dark grey pants. His free hand pulled up his secret album, full of candid images and videos of the man he infatuated so dearly. There was an option to play everything in a random sequence, and he selected it. Finally set up, he leaned back into his hovering, mauve seat. 

Anakin had gotten lucky this round. His favourite video of him and his master played, and at full volume. They were sparring, and had been for a while before the video was recorded. The pair were shirtless, fatigued from fighting. Obi Wan had particularly worked up quite the sweat. He was behind his master, crotch pressed up against his master’s bottom as he had his arm pinned behind him. Obi Wan was struggling to get out of his hold. Anakin had him good that day. He closed his eyes and let his imagination gas up the grunts and groans and whines into a scene so enticing, that he already felt himself becoming weak. Hearing the other man struggle from under him encouraged him to pick up his hand’s speed. He kicked off his boots and freed his burning skin from his tunics and sash as he felt himself nearing even more. He opened his eyes slightly, wanting to watch his master writhe from his grasp. Their bodies constantly bumped together. He must’ve been really focused on the match that day, any other day, he would’ve made some excuse to go to the showers early, which would’ve led to another pathetic wank. 

The video cut as it switched to pictures. Anakin was at least able to postpone his orgasm for a little longer. He spread his legs, and used his other hand to fondle his balls. He bit his lip, and hunched into his hands, finding out he was closer than he thought. 

“Obi Wan..” he whispered. His forehead was on the edge of his desk now as he pumped and cupped and stroked his privates. Another video had come on, one Anakin recognized as when he had been caught filming his master. With teary eyes, he looked up at the projected hologram. Obi Wan was just minding his business, stitching up a hole in Anakin’s tabbard. He looked up from his work and saw his padawan with a device directed at him. His master smiled at him, it was such a sweet smile, so genuine, so pure, so kind...he could go on. Anakin jerked himself at an inhuman pace. His forehead was back on his desk as his body couldn’t hold him up anymore. Those tears dripped right to the floor as Anakin shut his eyes tight, thinking about how simply wonderful his master was. He loved him, more than anything he could dream of. He swore under his breath, over and over, begging for Obi Wan’s touch. 

With gritted teeth, the teen came in thick ropes, legs spreading out as far as they could as his body spasmed. He continued to jerk up into his hand weakly, trying to draw out his orgasm. Anakin was looking down his coated opening, watching as more and more of his cum spurted out, imagining it as his master’s hole once he would be finished with him. Blue eyes continued to leak from the intensity, stinging from tears and sweat.   
Anakin leaned back into his chair again, completely worn out and still trying to catch his breath. His chest glistened with his sweat and little droplets of his seed that found their way up there. 

And soon, the singe of guilt that he always got a few minutes after he collected himself took over. He couldn’t look at himself as he shoved his soft penis back into his pants and redressed. He shut off his datapad with disgust for what he had just done. Obi Wan deserved better than him, a hormone driven, emotional, irresponsible Padawan. He groaned, nothing short of humiliated. What if Obi Wan really _could_ sense what he was doing? Anakin bit his thumbnail, nervous, and let the shame wash over him. It was his punishment for being filthy. 

He sulked the way over to his bed and plopped himself onto the sheets, face first. His chest tensed up as he prepared to cry. This always happened, even if he tried to fight it. It was caused by the toxic mix of guilt for what he did, and sadness that this is what he had to resort to, as he could never risk to tarnish what relationship they already had. It wouldn’t be anything new, plenty of masters and their padawans had become intimate. But Obi Wan was already so obviously involved with his former master that Anakin probably wasn’t even on his list. The freed boy wanted nothing else in the galaxy than to just have his master call him his: not his padawan, not his apprentice, just _his_.


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s the matter, my dear padawan?” Qui Gon stroked Obi Wan’s prickly cheek with the back of his hand. “You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing. Let us continue.” The younger man brought his partner's lips to meet his own once again. Their mouths were warm and wet from the several minutes of kissing. Obi Wan was sitting on his former master’s lap, firmly placed so that he wouldn’t slip or fall. He rolled his hips to see if any of his work was paying off. And strangely enough, it hadn’t. 

“ _You’re_ the one who’s distracted. Am I no longer enough to excite you?” he teased half-heartedly.

“You will always be able to excite me. Just, now isn’t the time. I’m sorry.”

Obi Wan understood, but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and sigh. He himself was looking forward to this. He got off of his partner’s lap and covered himself with the first robe he saw on the floor. Unfortunately for him, he was already so painfully erect, leaking with his pre-cum. It was going to take a few minutes for him to wind down. He sat next to Qui Gon and put an affirming arm around the large man. 

“Tell me.” Obi Wan said, although he could already sense what was worrying his master. He had sensed it way earlier when they were walking through the halls of the Temple. Reading Anakin’s thoughts, so vivid and heinous...it frightened him. How could his padawan have so much hate in his heart for the man who fought to free him? He couldn’t wrap his head around any cause, not one. He was conflicted about telling Qui Gon, as he didn’t want him to live in fear, and he didn’t want any confrontation. Anakin was skilled, he could hold his own against Qui Gon if it came down to it. But Qui Gon will always have more experience in dueling, and he would probably end up hurting Anakin. Obi Wan couldn’t lose either of them. But he had known his padawan for so long, that he had no choice but to either pacify him, or let his anger kill him. Approaching the situation would be tough, but did he have much of a choice? 

“I won’t fight the boy.” Qui Gon said. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“What are we to do?”

“Young Skywalker is your apprentice, Obi Wan. You have to make that decision on your own.”

Obi Wan dressed himself in his actual clothing, deciding it was now that this had to be dealt with. Later would be too late.  
Obi Wan really had a migraine now. He was using his head too hard. What could his partner have done to his padawan that warranted such resentment? It broke his heart. 

He reached his padawan’s quarters. The door was locked from the inside, so he couldn’t access the panel. He raised his hand to knock, but something disturbed his mind, making him freeze in place. He placed his forehead on the door, desperate to see inside of his padawan’s mind. His own name flashed before his eyes repeatedly, and it soon began to dissolve into a voice, Anakin’s voice. His padawan was beseeching him, and his mind was open, allowing Obi Wan to see exactly what Anakin was projecting. 

The last thing he expected was to see himself, nude and submissive to the boy whose life he had spent almost half of his life training alongside him.

He shook his head in disbelief, trying to fight out the images that were beginning to brand his mind. His whole body ran cold, yet his chest burned and ached at the visions. 

_How did it come to this? How?_ , the man thought. The distress from this moment alone felt to have aged him a lifetime. There was no training he could endure to ever prepare him for what he had just experienced. 

With haste, he left, seeing more than enough. He tried to reason with that traumatic situation, he really did, but nothing could explain _why,_ why was he his special interest? The only question answered was what was causing Anakin to have such hostile thoughts. He must’ve figured out that he and Qui Gon were legally bound, yet not even the council was aware. Anakin was no fool, and him and Qui Gon weren’t exactly the most private. 

Obi Wan couldn’t even go back into his chambers where Qui Gon was awaiting his return. He sank to the floor, head in hands. It was all too much, but he could only blame himself. Whatever he had done to earn him a place in the young boy’s heart, it was because of himself. Had he allowed his relationship with Anakin to sprout into something more? For all he knew, he had drawn a long, thick line as to where the boundaries were. At one point, Anakin was nothing but a child that he had chosen to take under his wing, only to spare his partner the stress. Eventually, yes, they had formed a bond, just as any master and padawan. But where-- _when_?--had it gotten to this point? He trusted that boy with his life, and he would sacrifice himself for him at the drop of the hat. Was that not normal? How could Anakin see him like that, as an orifice for pleasure? His stomach churned with the anguish of it all. This was almost as scarring as when his love almost lost his life. 

Confusion turned into desperation, as Obi Wan became angry with what he had witnessed. This was behavior that had to be corrected _immediately_. Nothing about this was his fault, not a damn thing. And it didn’t matter, because for however long it was going on, it stopped **today.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for NEXT chapter--descriptive self harm
> 
> THIS CHAPTER-- Obi Wan confronts his Padawan about the visions, And what even is privacy nowadays, right?

Anakin stared at the ceiling, fatigue with a slight headache from all the crying. His hands were overlapped on his stomach as he was once again deep in thought. He ran out of shame for the day, and was back his usual, brooding disposition. Using the force, he brought his current work in progress to him. He felt at peace when he was tinkering, nothing was on his mind besides the task at hand. Not even Obi Wan could penetrate his way through while he was working, unless he was making something for him. 

He had finished the model fighter and had just begun to paint it that dark red he adored so much, although it would’ve been traditionally black. A quick knock brought him back to reality, making him jolt from the suddenness. 

“Come in!” he called, not moving from his place on the bed. 

“Unlock the door, Anakin.” that familiar, stern voice responded. “Now.”

Anxiety ran through Anakin’s veins at the tone. His master sounded agitated. He quickly thought of everything he could’ve done. But he had been on his best behavior for the most part. Maybe he was overdue for a room sweep and Obi Wan had just remembered. Anakin had a mere few seconds to straighten up his quarters, and Obi Wan was already Force-ing the lock undone. 

Obi Wan came in with a purpose, and he looked like it. Anakin was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking as innocent as he could. The door slid shut behind him, leaving the two alone in the humble dwellings of the boy. 

Obi Wan hadn’t said anything to Anakin, just began searching, even though he didn’t know he was looking for. He realized that he was stalling, and continued to do so until he found a way to bring up the subject at hand.

Anakin could sense Qui Gon’s handprints all over his master’s body, something that wasn’t there when he was originally dismissed for the day. Obi Wan had lied to him, and once again left him for that perverted, old man. In his mind’s eye, he could _see_ the phantom hands and where they landed. They were densest near his waist and around his midsection. The blonde teen’s face scrunched up, wanting the image of that relic touching his master out of his mind. 

“How’s your migraine?” Anakin sneered, fully knowing the truth. Would Obi Wan lie right to his face? _Again?_ His canny grin quickly left his face as Obi Wan approached his desk, where he had stuffed his true feelings away in a drawer, one that was overfilled with said papers. That, and his datapad laid flat, unlocked and all, still in the gallery from what he knew. He subtly used the Force to click the small button on the side to put it in sleep mode. 

Obi Wan wasn’t born yesterday. Not only was he already hovering over the datapad when Anakin switched it off, he had seen the array of images on the boy’s device, some of which he recognized his own face, and there were a plethora of those. They had seemed innocent enough, nothing snuck of him in the ‘fresher or in the locker rooms after training, but it was the amount that fed into his fears. He felt weak again, and decided to sit down. 

“I apologize for not making your training my first priority.” Obi Wan said. His voice was low, and shaky, as if he had seen a ghost on the way over. “You’re accustomed to having most, or all, of the attention, and I haven’t been catering to your...needs.”

Needs. What _needs_ did a fifteen year old boy have besides food, water, shelter, and the clothes on his back? When he was fifteen, Obi Wan didn’t have the time, nor luxury, to sit around and swoon over his master, let alone jerk off to him. Those things only occurred when he reached knighthood, along with the progression of the relationship he had with his master. He was an _adult_ when his master first took him to his bed, and they had been in love only a little before that. And it was clean, vanilla, sweet love that they shared, it was nothing like Anakin’s unsound obsession with him. 

“I forgive you Master. The day has barely started, we still have plenty of time to train or--” Obi Wan raised a finger to hush him. Anakin hated when he did that. Not only was it rude, it also solidified his place: child. 

“Anakin,” Obi Wan rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to look into his padawan’s steel blue eyes. “How do you cope with all of this free time you’ve been given? Or should I say, lack of spotlight.”

The younger of the two went quiet with thought for a brief moment.

“Can I be honest with you Master?”

“That’s all I’d ever want from you.” And he meant that literally, along with respect and loyalty, but he said it in such a neutral tone that his padawan would never pick up on how literal he was being.

“When I come back to my quarters after such a short time with you, I--I feel sad and abandoned. Sometimes, I just curl up and I cry, because I feel like I’m in your way.”

Anakin felt his throat get tight, the same way it did whenever he was about to let the dam open. But he couldn’t do that right in front of him. He had to look down at his feet to avoid his master’s gaze, and pause for a second as he knew the next words to come out would be nothing but a squeak. His hands trembled as he fought back the inevitable tears. 

Obi Wan looked away too, seeing how those little things he was doing, like running off for a quick kiss, were hugely affecting his young apprentice. He had been selfish, thinking he would come into his space and put him in his place, and never thinking of the why. 

“And I sit there and think, ‘What did I do?’ and I go through everything I’ve done that made you upset. A-and--and, I then understand I deserve to be put aside.” Anakin barely managed to be heard. But Obi Wan heard him, and listened intently. His heart hurt for his padawan, hearing him say such absurd, yet no less than valid things.

Remorseful, he put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pressed their foreheads together. The bond between them didn’t deserve to be severed, not over this. This was all the effect of him being an unfit teacher. To make his own padawan, the child he had watched grow up and become a fine Jedi, feel like he was a burden, Obi Wan realized he had already failed him. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes. Obi Wan had put his second hand on his other shoulder. When he looked down, he saw the puddle of tears forming on the boy’s lap. His heart shattered, it really did. He empathized with his vulnerable student, truly understanding the hurt and pain that came from being left for ‘better.’

“But then I forgive you.” Anakin spoke, collecting himself enough to be intelligble. “Because I think some more, and see that it’s not you who has been choosing to leave me.”

Obi Wan created the gap between them once again, sensing that same aura of animosity that he felt when Anakin was pacing behind him. He shook his head subtly, disappointed at how Anakin had taught himself so much bitterness. 

“It’s Qui Gon who’s been taking you away from me.” 

He dreaded those words, laced with nothing but ill-will. 

“I _hate_ when he separates us, and I _hate_ when you go with him.”

Obi Wan shook his head more noticeably now, face turned with an expression of unease. If he hadn’t already been seated, his legs would’ve given out. That word-- _hate_ \--sent a chill down his spine. Ignoring his padawan’s lust would be a task, but it was nothing compared to mitigating his negative views on Qui Gon. 

“I _detest_ Qui Gon Jinn. I wish he wasn’t in our way, Master. How hard is it to shoo him off the way you do to me? He’s brainwashed you to not fulfill your duties. He is nothing. Nothing but a distraction.” 

What shook Obi Wan to the core was how Anakin was looking into his eyes, staring, making sure the message was getting through to him. His heart felt heavy as if Qui Gon was already gone from this world. His lip trembled, thinking about the morbid ways Anakin had thought to rid him with. How many times had it been that Obi Wan ran off with his lover? It couldn’t have been nearly enough as it could’ve for Anakin to want to kill his partner.   
“Please, Obi Wan,” he took his master’s hand in his own, still looking in his eyes. The tears had dried on his face, leaving crusty streaks. “Whatever he is doing for you, I’ll do it. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just please, stop leaving me for him, especially now that you know how I feel about him.”

It was made clear that Anakin wasn’t aware of their marriage, and only saw the two as too close. But he knew that he knew they had become even closer in recent years. 

“Stop talking to him.” Anakin urged. 

“Anakin, that’s impos--”

“Stop looking at him.”

“I can’t just--”

“Stop leaving me! For him!” he shouted.   
Obi Wan felt that in the deepest part of his soul, and continued to resonate from within. All Obi Wan could do sit back in the hovering chair, and stare. Had he started to fear his _padawan_? No, he told himself, just his intentions. 

“And if you find it so ‘impossible,’ I have ways to sway you, to motivate you into heeding my words.”

“Just what exactly could you do to make me do that?”

Anakin exhaled through his nose as if to chuckle. 

“Oh Master. I’ve known you for long enough to know you can’t help but to take responsibility when...bad things happen. Please, just do what I'm asking of you. I don't want these things to happen either."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW--Descriptive Self Harm
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been taking the time to comment and leave kudos on this train wreck, it really means the world to me. The world needs more of y'all. 
> 
> BOOKMARKKKK  
> this chapter became super long, I really got into it, I apologize

With those words, Obi Wan felt it would be reckless to leave his padawan unattended, not with all his sharp little tools and such; so accessible. 

He needed a way to take his mind off of the possibilities of Anakin causing himself harm. The thoughts made his chest tight, and the mind images were no less sparing. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one day he woke up and couldn’t sense the boy’s presence. It would destroy him as much as if Anakin carried out his spite against his love. There needed to be a balance. 

The two were eye locked, just _daring_ the other to abruptly move. Anakin was the one to break the gaze, as he looked past Obi Wan to his desk, taunting him by eyeing the little bits and pieces of metal shards. Obi Wan didn’t need to turn to know what Anakin was looking at, he had that desk memorized from when he first walked in. 

Obi Wan stood, making Anakin’s eyes dart back to him.

“Come padawan.” he advanced towards the door.

“Yes, master.” Anakin replied excitedly, tripping over himself to put on and tie his boots.  
The two were in the training room, alone. With the time they had wasted apart, they had missed the usual group sessions, where Anakin would be paired with another padawan for the remainder of training. But this was good, for the both of them, and for different reasons. Obi Wan could speak freely on Anakin’s techniques without “embarrassing” him in front of his peers, something he was allegedly guilty of too often. Although he was eager to train, the only thing on the boy’s mind was his master. Obi Wan could sense Anakin’s eyes on his rear as he was bending down to get some equipment, and he shuddered. Push come to shove, Obi Wan had the edge to fend off his sex-driven apprentice, but hopefully-- _hopefully_ \--it would never come around to that. 

“Put this on.” he tossed a head cover over. 

Anakin caught it, now realizing the assignment. He threw it to the ground. 

“I’m not doing this menial shit, Obi Wan.” he crossed his arms like a spoiled child. And in response, Obi Wan’s eyes went wide. Anakin was one to swear _occasionally_ , but never directed towards him. “I’m not a youngling anymore. Let’s spar.”

Not going to engage him with an argument, the older man stayed silent. He picked up the cover, and put it on Anakin’s head. He turned on the training droid, the one that fired the sting beams to simulate blaster bolts, and put it at a medium difficulty. If it was so menial, then Anakin should have no issues with completing the task.

Anakin sucked his teeth, and activated his lightsaber. He was already getting shot at. He was doing terribly, as he was distracted.

“Focus, Anakin. There’s no reason for you to be getting hit.”

_Shut up,_ Anakin said to himself. Yes, even he realized that he was being sloppy, but it was Obi Wan’s fault! The lack of consistent practice had made him rusty. 

Obi Wan had left the room, leaving Anakin on his own. He raced back to the boy’s room, figuring it wouldn’t take Anakin long to discover he left. He punched in the code, and slipped between the door before it could fully open. 

He had a little sack where he swiped all the contents on the desk into. He went to the shelves next, doing the same thing. And after checking under the bed and going through the closet, Obi Wan sorted out the things that Anakin couldn’t harm himself with.

His next destination was his own quarters, where he threw the bag onto his bed, hitting his partner. 

“Sorry,” he rushed out. 

“What’s all this?” Qui Gon asked, rummaging through the contents. “What _is_ this?” he questioned, seeing that it was truly just random stuff. 

“I don’t have time to explain right now, my love. I have to return to Anakin.” 

“Return? The child is right beside you.” he pointed to Anakin, who was about a meter away, parallel to his master.

Obi Wan turned, slowly, afraid to face him. 

“Did I say you were finished?” 

Anakin simply held out the battered droid, destroyed by its own deflected bolt. He dropped it Obi Wan’s feet, and tread away. 

He looked bad, found--caught, even--leaving his apprentice yet again, to be seen in the presence of the man that, in Anakin’s eyes, was the root of their problems. It was as if their conversation meant nothing, in one ear and out the other. But this wasn’t intentional, not at all. His disappearance was due to his love for Anakin, and Qui Gon being in the scene was purely a coincidence. But of course his padawan wouldn’t see it that way. 

“I-I have to go.” he panicked. He left his quarters and followed after Anakin. 

Anakin didn’t go back to his quarters. Instead, he was found back in the training room. He was standing in the center, saber drawn. Obi Wan walked in with caution, already sensing the anger in his padawan. 

“Do you take me for a joke, Master?” 

“Anakin, I-”  
“Do. Youuuu. Taaake. Meee. For. A. Jooooke?” he enunciated. 

“No, Anakin, allow me to explain.”

“I don’t need your explanation.” 

It was the calmness of his voice that terrified Obi Wan the most. He sounded too forgiving, and it was obviously a trap. Obi Wan came closer to his padawan, still maintaining a safe distance. His hand was on his saber’s holster, ready for anything.

“Answer my question.” 

“Anakin..”

“Yes or no!” he yelled, shrinking the gap by a step. “Were you even listening to me, _Obi Wan?_?!”

It was clear to him that Anakin didn’t want an answer, he wanted to make a point. 

“You hate me, don’t you? You want me to die so you can enjoy your life with _him._ ” 

Obi Wan drew his focus to the blue lightsaber. It was something he could never confiscate without reason. He hadn’t even thought about Anakin using it on himself. WIth every movement by Anakin, subtle or not, Obi Wan jolted. 

“I’m sorry I’m such a burden to you.”

“Please, Anakin, don’t talk like that.” Goosebumps covered his skin as his padawan’s words cut him. “I love you!”

“Liar! You never loved me, and you don’t love me now.” he tsked. “You didn’t heed.” He switched off his saber, only activated prior to scare his master, to make him worry for his safety. Obi Wan didn’t know Anakin was playing him like a fiddle. He wanted Obi Wan to stay awake at night, fearing for him. If he couldn’t have him physically, then he would occupy his mind. Anakin wanted to be the only person he thought about, from morning to night and in his dreams. There would be no space for Qui Gon. 

But Obi Wan still had to be punished. Anakin would let him feel secure, just enough to get him off his scent. He walked up to his master and held out his weapon, giving it to him. 

“I don’t want to die Obi Wan. I’m sorry for being born. I wish hadn’t been, that way you can be happy."

“That’s not what I want, not at all.” he pleaded. “I love you, Anakin. You’re my brother.”

Brother. 

_Brother._

Anakin sighed. Obi Wan still had to learn that he wasn’t a child. He didn’t want to be his brother. 

“You hate me.”

“Not at all,” Obi Wan wrapped his arms around the shorter blonde. He squeezed him tight, as if it was the last time. “Not at all.”

Anakin melted into the embrace. Feeling his master’s warmth was something he used to take for granted. But ever since he realized his own feelings, this kind of contact proved scarcer, as he feared his body would react in a way that he couldn’t control. Now, though, he was shameless. Obi Wan had fallen for him, he had to have. With the show he had put on, Obi Wan didn’t have much of a choice. Now he was finally his! That hug was nothing two brothers would exchange. Anakin began to take in deep sniffs of his master’s robe. His hands began to wander to lower than his waist. He wanted to be closer, and he pushed himself up against the older man. The boy whimpered, never experiencing such bliss before. 

But he was brought back to the real world when he was shoved away. His butt hit the floor with a thud, and his eyes were still half open from the ecstasy. 

“Anakin, no!” Obi Wan scolded. “That is _not_ appropriate!”

Anakin blinked. “What?” he asked, perplexed as to why he was on the ground. “Master, what’s wrong?” he stood up and tried to bring himself closer once again, but Obi Wan backed away from him. Why was he doing this, Anakin thought. 

Obi Wan looked over his padawan, repulsed.

Anakin had realized how tight his bottoms had become. He didn’t mean for that to happen, honest. He felt shame, and it was ten fold to the shame he felt after he came with his Master’s face on his mind. He pulled his tunic down over the bulge to shield himself.

“Master, don’t. Don’t look at me like that.” he begged. 

Obi Wan could only stand there, eyebrows lowered with sadness. It was even worse than he had first concluded.

Anakin was confused. Why did he hug him to begin with if he was going to react in such a way. Had Obi Wan _not_ fallen for his schemes? It was supposed to be fool proof, Obi Wan was supposed to be his! So why did he push him away? 

“I thought you loved me.” Anakin mumbled. 

“Not like this, Anakin. You knew that.” Obi Wan answered, matching his padawan’s volume. He sat down on the window sill, looking out of it. They were both quiet, and for far too long. 

“Leave me.” Obi Wan finally said.

“Master, please.”

“Leave, padawan.” he said, much more sternly. 

Anakin obliged, giving his master the space he requested. 

He felt empty. 

His face was blank as he walked back to his quarters, mindlessly typing in the pin. He plopped down on the bed, sitting with a hunch. The events played over and over in his head. 

How could I have been so blind, he thought. 

“He was never mine.” he mouthed. “He was never mine.” 

Anakin finally looked up, and searched his room with his eyes. Something was obviously different, but why did it matter? Why did anything matter? If Obi Wan didn’t love him, nothing mattered. 

He was nothing to him besides his apprentice, and that was all he was destined for. His chest stung and his limbs felt numb. He wept without tears, as he didn’t have any more to spare for the day. He would never be loved, not by anyone. And the only person who ever loved him was systems away.   
Anakin went into a compartment on his sash, and carefully pulled out a small razor, one he would use to give his eyebrows that slit that was so trendy among the human padawans. He rolled down his tunic to expose the paler side of his forearm. He looked down at the soft skin, poking at it first. He set the razor down, using his nails as a test scratch. The boy closed his eyes, and swiped all five of his fingernails across himself. 

It stung, bad.

He looked down the reddened skin, the tiniest holes bubbling out blood. He couldn’t do that again, not with a razor. The scratches were enough to distract him from the pain in his heart. 

But then the physical hurt faded. 

Anakin slapped the scratches, needing the sting to return. But it hadn’t. All those years of training made Anakin suseptible to long term pain.   
He picked up the razor again, and gently traced the scratches, before swiftly making the cut right on the dotted lines. He cried out in anguish. He did it four more times, each time deeper than the last. His pants were tinged with the deep red, along with his sleeve as the blood dribbled down. 

Anakin looked down at the razor, seeing nearly half of it was dyed now. He couldn’t bear to see what he had done to himself. But in the corner of his eye, he could see the chunks of his skin gathered up and bordering the deep wounds. And it was still all bleeding, leaking to the floor and his boots. His head was beginning to spin, but he built up the strength to continue. 

“This is for taking me from my mother!” he slashed in the opposite direction. “And this is for taking Obi Wan from me!” he cut again. “And this is because I fucking hate you!” and he just went completely berserk, slicing himself all around his arm in random patterns. He kept going until there was no skin left to abuse, and then broke down once again. 

“It’s all your fault!” he screamed, directing his words to the man who wasn’t even there. “I hate you!” 

Anakin threw the light blade as far as he could, making it puncture the wall. His body was trembling. And suddenly, he began to feel very, very cold. He covered himself with his blanket, ignoring his injuries, and laid down, emotionally tired and drained. And it was all because of that old man, the foundation of everything that had gone wrong with him. He gripped the covers tighter, fighting himself to not think of him. If he was in his mind, then he was winning. 

“I’m going to kill you.” he muttered. “I want you dead.” He spoke as if he was trying to relay his message through the Force, but Qui Gon received nothing. “You better hope you die before I get to you. You’re done.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating the next chapter to whoever guesses how many times I used a male pronoun in this story because wow we love a nondescriptive writer
> 
> TW for next chapter--rape  
> This chapter: nothing new really

Obi Wan suddenly felt a sharp pain on his arm. He glanced down at it, soon ignoring it as it faded. He was still looking out of the window, contemplating on his next move, and the move after that. He had too much respect for himself to allow Anakin to view him as just a hole, and that was all he wanted from him apparently. He didn’t want his love and his affection, the boy just wanted to fuck him. If Anakin truly adored him, it wouldn’t be like this. It still was uncertain as to why the lack of attention curdled into an erotic fantasy. How was he exposed to such a way of thinking? How did Anakin know about sex in the first place? The amount of talk revolving around it was rare at the Temple, _notably_ man on man relations. Not to say the Order was against such matrimonies, it was just very uncommon. But it was extremely strange that Anakin had formed such a thorough notion of it all. He didn’t pick it up from him and Qui Gon, no way; the two would never advertise what they did behind closed doors to him. 

Maybe they were too vocal one night...or perhaps Anakin had invaded his way into his mind while it was all taking place.

_Enough about that_ , Obi Wan said to himself, _what am I to do about Qui Gon?_

Regardless of the faith he had in his lover’s abilities, it was natural to be concerned. What if Anakin struck during the night? Qui Gon was much older now, and him dueling half awake would most definitely be his demise.

But he still had Anakin’s lightsaber, and all of his dangerous gadgets. His partner was safe for the time being. 

_THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!_ his padawan’s voice rang through his mind. _I HATE YOU!_

_No,_ he mused. _No, don’t...Anakin!_ Obi Wan held his head, arm pain returning by the mole. _Don’t do it, I’m begging you!_ he felt paralyzed, or at least several tonnes heavier. He tried to stand, but fell to his knees as his own weight crushed him. He grasped his ailing limb, applying pressure as if there was a wound.

Obi Wan sobbed. What had he missed? He cleared out the boy’s quarters, he checked it thrice. Whatever it was, it was too late now. He was freezing now, shivering as if he were on Hoth under-dressed. His heart palpitated rather harshly. The man had collected the passion to rush to Anakin, ignoring his own tolling pain.  
Anakin’s teeth chattered, still too cold despite being under his thick covers. It was probably the fresh blood that was making everything cooler with the draft of his room. His nose tickled and ran, teasing a sneeze. He was just so, so cold. Thinking about Obi Wan warmed his heart at least. If he died now, Obi Wan could be happy. 

“ _Am_ I going to die? Like this?”

Anakin sighed, accepting that fate. 

Just then, Obi Wan came through to his quarters once again. Anakin was too weak to react, but made the effort to conceal his self-inflicted lacerations.

“What have you done, Anakin?” the older man charged to the bedside. Droplets of blood stained the floor, creating a faint trail. The comforter was now darkened with a mix of older, drying blood and fresh alike. They fought over his arm, Obi Wan trying to ease it into vision, while Anakin tried to pull himself away.

“Where else are you bleeding!?” Obi Wan panicked, alarmed at the damage once he was able to look. He began unraveling gauze from a compartment in his belt, wrapping it around his padawan’s arm for pressure until he could get him to the medical bay.

“I’m not.” Anakin muttered. His head was pounding, and with the covers pulled away from him, his body tremored harshly with the low temperature. 

“Oh, Anakin, _oooh, Anakin_!” he wailed as the gauze became quickly drenched. He didn’t have any more, and resorted to using his own tunic. 

Anakin lay there, too disoriented to respond anymore. His body was limp as it was lifted by his master. He tucked his head into Obi Wan’s chest, trying to get warm, but he was no less freezing. His body jostled against his as Obi Wan ran with him, going down the dark halls to at least keep his padawan safe from judgemental glares. His injuries looked anything but accidental, and anyone who would witness it would know as well as he did. Masters would ostracise Anakin as they didn’t want such a troubled student around their own, destroying his social life. Nobody would view him as the same boy deemed the Chosen One, but just as a sad, _weak_ padawan. 

* * *

They reached the medbay, where Obi Wan meticulously placed Anakin on the bed, and closed the door behind them.  
It had been hours. The sun was finally beginning to set on what seemed to be the longest day of their lives. Obi Wan was lingering over the boy as his eyes slowly began to open, dry from the rest he hadn’t remembered falling into. Being so close made his heart thump.

They were mute. What did one say after such a moment? Asking if the other was alright now, after all that happened, would be overkill. 

Another hour of silence passed, as Obi Wan sat in the corner, looking over the file of Anakin’s visit. He would figure out what to do with it later, as there was no way he could allow it to be officially entered in the Temple’s system. It would follow Anakin for the rest of his life. 

“Please forgive me.” the boy spoke.

Obi Wan set the datapad beside him, approaching Anakin’s bed once more. He didn’t say anything, still in shock even after all those hours, but he pressed Anakin’s palm to his cheek, molding into it. 

“This wasn’t to spite you, I swear. I was just...vulnerable. It was in the heat of the moment.”

He could tell Obi Wan doubted his words. Had he not just threatened to do this exact thing earlier? It looked bad, but Anakin stayed true, even if he wasn’t believed. He didn’t want Obi Wan’s attention like this, back in the training room was just empty words. This was all from his hatred.

“I’ve failed you.” the other replied. “It should’ve never come down to this. I wish I had listened and paid attention to the signs. This was bound to happen for some time, yet I still failed to save you.” he folded his arms and rested his head upon them on the empty space on the bed. 

Sick, sick Ani, ignoring the setting and predicament, still managed to find a way to manipulate his poor, hurt teacher. 

“What did my file say? How long will I be here?”

He was stitched up, and only needed to heal now, inside and out. But Obi Wan didn’t like the idea of letting him leave the bay today, even though he could with weekly check ups. He would be under full watch here, unlikely to hurt himself again.

So he lied. 

“Two weeks.”

That number may have been overshoot. Anakin was too smart for his age, he knew the extent of his injuries, and it didn’t warrant that long of a stay.

“You lost more blood than you think. There’s a surfeit of nerve damage.” Obi Wan continued, threading his web of lies. “There’s a chance you may never be able to use your arm again. And the medics believe you need to be under their constant care until you are..stable.”

“Will you stay here with me?” Anakin requested, intentions coquettish, but words solemn as he attempted to establish that sense of fear for himself  
“Yes, my padawan. Of course.” Obi Wan hadn’t intended to leave Anakin anyway, so now his presence was welcomed at least. Now Anakin and Qui Gon would both be safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay NEXT CHAPTER, the TW will apply. I just feel like the pacing is wrong. I don't know if it would be okay to apologize for *not* writing a rape scene right away, but I will apologize for the false advertisement. 
> 
> TW for next chapter: Rape
> 
> This chapter: same shit, same day, but make it kinda vanilla.

“Obi Wan, is everything under control? I sensed a disturbance in the Force some time ago.” Qui Gon spoke, blue to his partner as they communicated over holopad. 

“Everything is under control here. Get some rest, my love” 

“Where’s young Skywalker? Is he alright?”

Obi Wan’s body surged with impatience. He loved his partner, but his insistence proved to be quite annoying at such a time. He didn’t want to go into details, not with Anakin half awake on the other side of the curtain. Taking the call was a risk, as Anakin’s permission seemed testing. 

“He’s fine. I have to go.”

“Alright then. I love--”

Obi Wan was quick to put the holopad away into his pocket. Who knew how Anakin would react to overhearing such things, taking his current state into consideration.

Obi Wan sent his regards to his lover through the Force. After, he appeared from the curtain, where Anakin lay awake, sipping tiredly at his fruit juice. His face had gotten paler, even though he was recovering. Perhaps it was just the lighting, Obi Wan reasoned. 

He walked over to his fellow blonde and stroked his hair. Anakin took his lips from the straw, glanced up at his master, then showed him his teeth with a smile, and went back to his drink. 

“Would you like some?” he asked, realizing it would be rude to just drink the entire twenty ounces on his own. Maker knew he himself had skipped his midday meal and supper, and his master probably had too. It was something at least.

Obi Wan shook his head, saying that he needed a caf instead. But the only machine was rooms away, and he truly didn’t want to leave Anakin, even for a moment. His stomach panged with hunger, although the last thing on his mind was eating. 

“Master,” the boy spoke again. “Could you go to the dining area and grab me something?”

Obi Wan shrugged, deciding to take advantage and get himself something too, and his beverage. What a coincidence, he thought. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Soup, if there’s any. I’m not starving, I just need something light. If not, sauteed critters. You know which ones.”

Still hesitant on leaving, Obi Wan went to fetch them their meals. Anakin waited for the door to close, and he hopped from bed, snatching the datapad off of the spare bunk. He looked it over, sensing that his master was once again lying to him earlier. 

“PT, two weeks…” he read. “Nothing about nerve damage, that scoundrel.” continuing on, he found out that he could’ve been back in his quarters tonight. Although, maybe it was for the best he was here for now. Wash day was tomorrow, and he’d be able to get new, clean bedding. As of now, he would’ve had to sleep on the bare mattress if the blood bothered him enough. 

He had seen enough, though, and set it back down. His hand felt strained after scrolling, and it soon spasmed. Standing, he waited for it to be over before lying back down. 

He crawled back onto the cot, looking at the bandages, blotched with a light pink in certain areas. Maybe once he woke up, it might get nasty enough to switch out of. 

His eyes wandered to the little gliding table where all of the medic’s tools were. Anakin figured they had become obsolete due to the newer medical droid models, who had those tools built in. Using the Force, he brought it to him, and he sat up to look them all over. His boyish nature took over him as he began examining them, finding them all intriguing in their own way. Familiar with the scalpel by name, Anakin decided, “No one will be looking for it. I might need it for one of my models.” and that he’d add it to his collection once he was let out. 

Obi Wan came back a short time after that, calling for Anakin to open the door, as his hands were full. Anakin got up to open it, taking his food to free his master up. He looked down into the pack, seeing that he had gotten him both the soup and his bugs. But he frowned at the bugs.  
“They only had the medley.” 

It was fine, whatever, Anakin said to himself. He could just separate them, maybe he’d get lucky; they all looked similar when cooked and seasoned, besides the worms. 

“Thank you, Master.” he said rather gratefully as he felt his stomach about to grumble. He sat down and faced Obi Wan, and they ate.  
The pair was fast asleep after their meals, Obi Wan barely managing to shimmy out of a layer or two of clothing before he collapsed. But he surely had found his way over to Anakin, and they slept head to foot, foot to head. While the older man was in his deep slumber, the boy began tossing from his vivid dreams. 

_“Oh Ani…” he moaned. “You’re so good.”_

_Anakin was red in the face as he watched his master pleasure himself, using his body. He circled his hips everytime he fully took in Anakin’s cock. The boy could only watch, enjoying the show in front of him and not wanting to ruin the flow of it all. They weren’t facing each other, against Anakin’s wishes. He wanted to embrace Obi Wan as he rode him, and kiss him to express that this was more than just a fuck._

Anakin woke up from the strange dream; only strange to his standards because normally he was the one in control. But it gave him another troublesome erection, prominent through the thin gown. He groaned and slid his hands down his face, unsure of what to do. They go away quickest after such things. Turning over to his other side, the cot creaked. And of course, his imagination went on a one way trip to the gutter. Obi Wan was too heavy to snatch the blanket from under, so Anakin laid there, boner exposed, tall and proud. 

Wait, Obi Wan?!

Anakin crawled the short distance to get a better look. Maybe he was dreaming.

But there he was, out cold, breathing all too heavily, just barely making the cut off of being a snorer. 

Not good, Anakin thought, not good at all. Obi Wan knew of his attraction, yet he placed himself right in his path, and at his most vulnerable. Was this an invitation? What else could it be? There were plenty of spare beds. To be perfectly honest with himself, he hadn’t expected Obi Wan to actually stay through the whole night, settling with the thought that he would’ve slipped off again for Qui Gon and returned in the morning. 

But he stayed for him. And it was apparent to Anakin why. His master was luring him, pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to explicitly give himself to him, because that was _just_ the type of man he was. Just look at him, flat on his stomach, rear end no longer modestly hidden by his tunics.

Anakin got up and scanned the room for any medical droids, and when he didn’t find any, he crept back into bed with his master. After slinging a leg over, he gently began planting kisses along his short beard. The excitement was overwhelming, making him test his luck more and more, caressing Obi Wan’s body over his clothes. He squeezed certain areas, grunting with happiness as his hands filled with muscle and fat perfectly. 

But then Obi Wan shifted, and the blonde froze, hands close to his own chest, even going as far as holding his breath. 

He really was asleep, and Anakin’s face flushed from the thought of humiliation, now feeling disinclined to continue his perverted petting. He had to really stop and think for a moment, think about how he had honestly assumed his master--after being so dismissive and intolerant to his advances--would finally give in, and only after so much had occurred. 

Anakin returned to his spot. Now things just felt awkward, more awkward than his still hard dick. He lacked the will to take care of it himself, and just came to the conclusion that he should take an example from his master, and rest. The apprehension of the morning’s inevitable conversation gave him the jitters. What if Obi Wan mediated a discussion between him and Qui Gon? 

Absolutely plausible.

Or what if he was bombarded by the two of them together? 

Hmmm...the two of them together...the two of _them _together...one Ani, two masters.__

_He speculated for a moment, and it wasn’t doing anything for him, it really didn’t. Fortunately, he found his new go-to for when he had to force himself down. It was absolutely repulsive. Resorting to sharing, how stupid! He would rather die, and literally. He’d slit himself across the throat if it even came down to that. That vile fossil had molested his thoughts for the final time. Anakin swore to never think of him again, not like that, ever. It was enough to make his stomach acid spray from his esophagus into his mouth._

_Abhorred from his own sick “fantasy,” he went to sleep for good, leaving consciousness with a cringed expression on this face._

* * *

_Anakin had given in. There was no way he could pass up such an opportunity. He sat back up and went to Obi Wan’s end of the bed. He laid down, facing the sleeping man. Anakin stroked his face against the growth of the beard, making his hand tingly from the little spikes. One leg was gently placed on Obi Wan’s side, allowing Anakin to come closer. He grinded against the other man’s lower half slowly, but rough. His eyes were already becoming cloudy with the glorious sensations. But he soon found it still wasn’t enough. Anakin whined as his own hips became tired from the frottage. Obi Wan needed to pick up the slack; there was no way he’d just turn down Anakin in this state, not again, right?_

_The boy rolled Obi Wan onto his side, and then slowly continued to move him until he was on his back. He lingered overtop of him, legs and arms on either side of the man, trapping him._

_“Master?” he whispered, and repeated himself once more a little louder when he didn’t receive a response. He smiled when his master’s eyes fluttered open._

_Obi Wan groaned, curious as to why he was being woken._

_“I need you, Master.”_

_“What?” he responded, already starting to fall back asleep. And then he mumbled something incoherent._

_“Do you love me?” Anakin asked, shaking Obi Wan slightly to keep him awake._

_“Yes.” He answered, fully back on his stomach now. “You know that already.”_

_“If you truly love me, I need you to prove it to me. Now.”_

_Obi Wan looked over his shoulder._

_“What is it, my padawan?”_

_Anakin took a deep breath before lunging into Obi Wan’s lips with his own. His heart pounded out of his chest as they were both perfectly still. Their eyes were open, Obi Wan’s much wider with surprise. Why wasn’t he kissing him back? Didn’t he blame himself for all of this? He was giving him a chance to redeem himself, but he pulled away._

_Anakin’s red face went undetected by the darkness of the room. His ears began to ring from the complete silence._

_“Hm.” Obi Wan hummed. “Alright then.”_

_Anakin’s heart skipped a beat when Obi Wan took him by the face and finally returned the kiss. His entire body jerked into him, desperately needing more friction. The older man wrapped his legs around his padawan’s waist, bringing him even closer, and encouraging him to continue grinding.  
“Anakin,” Obi Wan began after a few minutes. “Take me, right here.”_

_Nothing would’ve made him happier, but he really didn’t know where to go from here. His hands became clammy and his underarms started to sweat as he started to untie his gown. What if he couldn’t pleasure his master the way he did in his dreams? He looked down at Obi Wan’s pants, catching a glimpse of the evident hardness, and then sheepishly recalled his own. His facilities were in no way capable of doing the job proficiently._

_“I-I can’t.”_

_“Why not? I thought this was all you ever wanted.” he took Anakin’s cock into his hand and slowly began to stroke it._

_“I’m afraid.” the boy confided. “I don’t know if you’d be satisfied.”_

_“You’re not ready. I understand. Don’t force yourself, let’s just keep doing what we were.”_

_Obi Wan continued to please his padawan with his hand, living for the sultry sounds that escaped his lips. Anakin rested his head in the crook of his neck, moans muffled by the skin. He gasped when his master reached around and began toying with his privatest of places, something he never even tried himself. As the minutes passed, it became more and more pleasant. He rocked himself against Obi Wan’s fingers and then back into his fist. He pulled at Obi Wan’s under tunic for leverage, slowly becoming more vanquished with each passing moment. His moans started to come from his throat instead of his chest, signally his assured release._

_“I love you, Ani.” he told him in his ear, licking and nibbling at it directly afterwards. “I love you so much.”_

_“I love you more, master!” Anakin cried, trembling from the build up. “Please, just fuck me, for real! I want to feel _you_ in me.”_

_“Are you sure you’re ready for that jump?” Obi Wan teased, already stripping himself of his bottoms with one hand, continuing to push his fingers in and out of his padawan’s hole._

_“Master, I’m begging you.” he was quick to return the favor by caressing Obi Wan’s finally free loin. “I need you.” he removed the fingers and swiftly put the head of the throbbing, veiny, magnificent cock inside of his tightness, eager to take in the rest as soon as possible._

_“Take your time, Anakin. You’ll break.”_

_Confidently, he replied “I can handle myself.” Obi Wan had his eyes squinted, watching as he disappeared inside of the boy, intrigued by how fast his inexperienced body adapted to the length and girth in comparison to his fingers._

_“Oh _fuck_...” Anakin cursed. His legs were already worn from the work of lowering and raising himself on and off of so much dickage. “More, master, more!”_

_Obi Wan gave him what he wanted, and placed his hands on the blonde’s hips and took over, thrusting up deep into him. They rolled over, placing Anakin beneath him as he drove himself in hard, putting a hand under the boy’s thigh and lifting it to rest on his shoulder._

_“You’re such a good boy.” he praised, proud that his padawan could hang._

_“Shhh! I’m gonna cum!” he stroked himself with rigor, eyes rolling back as the sensations crashed into him like waves hitting rocks. His free leg kicked out, toes curling as he rolled his hips against the hard, thorough fucking he was receiving. “Obi Wan! Oh, Obi Wan, Obi Wan, Obi Wan!” his hands flew to sheets, clenching them and twisting them._

_“Go on, finish for me.” the other panted, his own orgasm certain to follow that of his padawan. “Seeing how well you take me makes me so h--”_

_Obi Wan was soon interrupted by Anakin’s gloriously loud, quivering, generous orgasm, shooting his spunk all over their bodies. He threw his head back, swearing all types of profanities as Obi Wan continued to drill into his hole, whose strokes became shorter, but maintained their impact as Anakin was now much too tight to maneuver. But it was the way Anakin’s muscles contracted around his cock that brought him to his end. His thick, plenitful load stuffed the shuddering boy to the brim. Anakin bit his lip, finding his master’s decision quite erotic. It only added to the strong aftershocks of his pleasure._

_Anakin looked down, seeing his own seed spotted around the dark hairs of his privates. He then looked up at his master with half opened eyes, smiling weakly before collapsing._

* * *

Obi Wan covered his ears with the pillow, trying to drown out his padawan’s soft but distinguishable whimpers of his name. Why tonight? Of all nights, why tonight? He had already moved back to the spare bunk, only after Anakin fell back asleep after molesting him with the kissing. 

Yes, he was fully conscious when that happened. He hadn’t slept all night, afraid that his padawan still may inflict harm on himself. It had maybe been an hour, and he could still feel Anakin’s small hands on his rump. 

The boldness that radiated from that padawan was _astronomical._ The poor man was truly shaken up now, still taking all of the day’s events into account. Who knows how much further he would’ve gone if Obi Wan hadn’t shifted enough? The thought made him shudder. He never felt so violated in his entire life, never. He turned over to face the bed Anakin was on. The boy was still going on, saying his name, commenting on his size, and using that poor pillow to rub against. It must be a very vivid dream he was engulfed in, and Obi Wan wanted no part in it. It was sort of funny to him, how after all the drama, the boy still found his way into such thoughts. He wondered if he ever sleep-fucked his bedding before. There was no way. Such things didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as it did for Anakin. 

He wished he was deaf when his name was repeatedly moaned, much louder than the whimpering he was trying to disassociate from. But finally, the room was silent; no more creaking or grunting or names. 

It wasn’t flattering, not one bit. It was nothing less than vile. Obi Wan kept asking himself why it had to be him. It was the dream world! Literally, Anakin could’ve conjured up anyone else. 

But he was once again grateful that it was over. He refluffed his pillow and finally found the chance to rest, now that Anakin would be out of commission for a few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dickage
> 
> Again, sorry for another super long chapter. I promise I'll spread them more thin from now on. Shit was 6 pages with a 12 font on Google docs.
> 
> Also I don't have my glasses on and its 1 Am but is my shit in italics?? or am i crazy
> 
> Edit: okay I fixed it. It was in italics


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter ahead again, my bad. IDK how to separate content

Anakin was awakened a few hours later by the wafting aroma of breakfast right in his nose. Surely Obi Wan wasn’t the one to have gotten it, as he was still fast asleep. And seeing that his master had moved away from him during the night quickly made the start to his day sour. 

Now fully awake, he sat up. His entire body was sore, making him groan and wince while he stretched. Dry lips peeled apart as he yawned, and he stayed still for a few more seconds, just looking down at the plate as if he was trying to figure out what was on it. 

He jumped out of his skin when he heard, “Good morning, young Skywalker.” from beside him. The fork hit the floor with a _clink_ as he threw it as his last line of defense and missed. How he hadn’t sensed the large man’s presence the moment he opened his eyes, and maybe even before that. Anakin instinctively hid his arm deeper under the sheets when he wasn’t looking, as he had bent down to pick up the fork and was now wiping it off with his sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” Anakin asked, trying to snatch the fork with as much subtlety; he still despised that man, and no amount of generous deeds was ever going to change that. Unless one of those deeds included giving Obi Wan up to him. If that wasn’t where the conversation was headed, then he didn’t want to hear his response.

Qui Gon sat down on the edge of the bed, causing Anakin’s face to scrunch up slightly. He brought his knees closer to his body, wanting as much space as possible between them. 

“I needed to speak with you.” he replied calmly, like he always did. Anakin wanted to push his buttons so bad, he wanted to see him snap one day. The man was too...relaxed, all day, everyday, even when things didn’t go his way. 

“Regarding what?” 

Qui Gon pointed to the boy’s arm, the one so obviously hidden. Anakin couldn’t even hold the cutlery correctly with his non-dominant hand. Anakin blankly stared down in his own lap. That wasn’t a topic he was in the mood to discuss. He quite literally just woke up; he wasn’t going into details, especially not to the man who was the reason he was here right now. In addition to that, he didn’t owe him anything in terms of an answer. He could go die for all Anakin cared, just drop dead right in front of him. They were already in the infirmary, why not? _Go on old man, croak, I’m waiting._

“What exactly prompted such an injury, padawan?”

“Something sharp.”

Qui Gon continued to attempt eye contact, but Anakin was blatantly turned from him, back completely facing the older man now. He got up, and picked up the datapad that lay at his partner’s side. The weight shifting made Anakin look over his shoulder. Seeing the man holding all the information made him sweat, as if he actually cared about any judgement from him. He became heated watching Qui Gon’s expressions change as he went through the file. It was certainly not meant for just anyone’s eyes, and now Anakin was nothing less than uncomfortable. He wished Obi Wan would wake up already.

“You know, you can tell me anything.”

“What’s there to tell? You read my file.” Anakin shot back. “Against my wishes, at that.” he said in a mutter.

“Anakin, when did you become so sullen? What ever happened to that ambitious young boy I first met on Tatooine? Where did the years go?” 

Anakin rolled his eyes. Could he just leave? He had heard enough of his voice today to last him a lifetime. 

“Are you alright to walk?” the greying man inquired. He didn’t even wait for a response when he insisted Anakin come with him. The boy only went because he had been in bed for almost ten hours straight, and he hated feeling groggy.

* * *

Qui Gon had offered Anakin his robe to cover his medbay gown, which Anakin only accepted because his entire ass would’ve been out. It dragged half a meter behind him, and it was slipping off of his shoulders. That man was definitely abnormally large, for a human Anakin thought. Anakin was tall as it was for his age, yet Qui Gon still managed to cast a shadow over him. It gave the blonde an odd sense of security. 

They had ended up in Qui Gon’s quarters, somewhere Anakin hadn’t been in almost two years, and it was the one thing that wasnt related to his envy; the incense scent always gave him a pounding headache.

But this time, it was different: there was no nauseatingly strong aroma, and it now looked entirely like a shared space. Why Obi Wan still even had his own quarters still was a mystery. Recognizing his master’s belongings made him feel defeated. Obi Wan had been on this new chapter of his life for so long, yet Anakin still lusted after him as if he would ever have the opportunity. 

And perhaps maybe now was the time. The door was closed behind the two, and Anakin still had his motives. Qui Gon was turned away, straightening up what he could at the last minute. 

The scalpel Anakin had borrowed was cool against his hip, only held in place by the tight knot he made on the strings of his gown. His heart thumped as he reached for it, keeping his eyes locked on the older man. 

Qui Gon turned back just as it was fully in view. Anakin was frozen stiff, not sure where to go from there. He had overestimated himself, thinking all this time he would have the strength to kill him. But he could only stand there, frightened of the next movement between them. 

The older man came closer. Anakin held out the tool threateningly, really for his own safety. Qui Gon continued to approach him, and the blonde’s blood pumped harder than ever before. Was he really going to go through with it? How would he get away with it? He was thinking too hard. Qui Gon was swift to take it from his grasp, putting it away in his belt compartment.

“What has happened to us, Ani? Why have we drifted apart?”

“You should know.” Anakin replied coldly.

He rested his hands on Anakin’s shoulders, they were heavy enough to keep the boy in place. But Anakin tried to wriggle out, irritability now flooding his veins. If he still had his weapon, now would’ve been the time to use it. 

“Get off of me.” Anakin commanded through clenched teeth. He used his own hands to try and pry the man off of him, but he was physically disadvantaged. “Get off of me!”

“Just tell me: what can I do?” his hands slid down the boy’s upper arms with a sensual stroke, bringing the brown of the robe down with him. Anakin brought himself to his knees in hopes to get out of Qui Gon’s grasp, but he only followed him to the floor. He ended up on his back, digging his nails into the short carpet in an attempt to stay in place. But Qui Gon still managed to drag him closer. He tore the robe open, revealing the white gown Anakin was clad in, rode up from sliding against the floor. Anakin kicked and shouted, fearing for his own safety now. His good arm’s fist connected with the man’s nose, making it leak with blood almost instantly. But his grip didn’t give out. Qui Gon placed Anakin’s hands above his blonde little head, holding them with one hand as he untied the thin cloth with the other.

Anakin’s legs wrapped around Qui Gon’s wide body, meaning to flip him over and give him the upper hand, but to no avail.

“Tell me, Anakin.” Qui Gon begged, his blood staining the boy’s skin. He slowly moved the gown away from his smaller, tanner body.

“Stay away from me!”

Qui Gon put his full weight on him, making Anakin grunt. Anakin fought to breathe, no longer bothering to scream. He did what he could to free his hands at least, slipping one free. He slapped the man across his mitt, sending a sting through his own nerves. His hand went flaccid right afterwards from the pain. He was hopeless. 

Qui Gon, reclaiming Anakin’s hand, slowly began to kiss his way down Anakin’s face, starting at his temple and stopping right at the start of his neck. The blonde was now desperate, knowing what was to follow. He tried to knee him, but his leg barely made it off the ground. 

“Please, don’t.” Anakin whined, petrified by the large man whose intentions were written across his forehead. “I’m sorry, I really am!”

“What are you apologizing for, young one?” Qui Gon placed his hand right between Anakin’s tightly shut thighs.

“Don’t do this to me, Master, I’m begging you.” his voice was barely a whisper as his breath hitched with the sudden shift of the man’s weight. Anakin tried to use his mind to move Qui Gon away, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus as a large finger began to press at his hole. Anakin’s stomach dropped. “Qui Gon, stop!” But his pleas were ignored. Qui Gon invaded him, and Anakin’s fit started once again. He focused on shifting his lower half off and away from that pervert’s hand. His body was fatiguing by the second, but he would never give in. Fear was replaced with rage when the man pushed another finger into him. Anakin went berserk, finding an ounce of adrenaline to fight. He yanked his arms free, and turned on his stomach to crawl away. His legs popped and crackled as the weight of Qui Gon proved as an obstacle to get out of. He elbowed the man in the face, Maker knowing where his hit landed, and once one leg was freed, the other soon followed. Anakin ran to the door, but Qui Gon was too quick, grabbing him by the ankle and dragging him back to him. Anakin snatched up what he could, something heavy, and threw it at him. Qui Gon stood, taking Anakin by the neck and suspending him at eye level. Anakin gripped at Qui Gon’s hand, digging his nails into him, scratching and biting him in hopes to loosen the hand around his neck. He was held out too far to use his legs.

“What have I done to you, Anakin?”

“You just _raped_ me!” he choked out.

“I must’ve done something to make you hate me so much as the years passed. You wanted to kill me.” Qui Gon threw Anakin on the bed, pinning him once again, putting his body between Anakin’s legs before he could lock them. Anakin’s hip bones felt strained from supporting so much weight. He was completely exposed beneath him.

“You know what you did! Why are you doing this?!” 

“You think I want to do this to you? I love you, Ani. But when someone you love does something bad, don’t they have to be punished?” Qui Gon pressed himself against Anakin, cock sturdy and hard enough at this point that even with his clothes, he’d be able to penetrate the boy. 

“I don’t love you! I never did!”

Qui Gon was freeing his hardness, zoning out Anakin’s voice.

“You took _my_ love away from me! I hate you!” 

“Stupid boy, he was never yours.” Qui Gon said under his breath, but loud enough for Anakin’s ears. Anakin’s struggling was proving tiresome, and Qui Gon struck him across the face. Anakin stopped, _appalled_ by the man’s courage. When he came back from that, he used his heels to abuse Qui Gon’s lower back. Anything was better than nothing. 

“Do you honestly believe that Obi Wan would love you? Ever?”

“If you were dead!” 

Qui Gon stuffed the boy’s mouth with the edge of his own gown and flipped him over, forcing his face into the mattress and guiding his stiff hips upwards to match up with his own pelvis. 

“I can fill that void, Anakin. Consider this a favour, since you’ll never experience this with my Obi Wan.”

Qui Gon lined his slick head at Anakin’s hole, using just his hips. His hands were holding Anakin’s behind his back, making the boy’s shoulder blades into those triangles. Anakin spit out the cloth, using his tongue to push it out. 

“Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t!” he wailed as the reddish tip made its way inside of him. His stomach tightened, he felt like he had to use the bathroom--like really bad. “Qui Gon, think of Obi Wan. What would he think of you if you did this to me?” He tried to reason. “Please stop! I can’t take any more! You’re going to kill me!”

“Quit the dramatics, I think you’ll grow to enjoy this opportunity.” he said as he pushed himself in further. Naturally, Anakin’s body was pushed forward from the lack of stability in his hips, so he was spared an inch. He braced himself as Qui Gon held his arms tighter, cementing him into position. Anakin found no use in fighting anymore. The sooner he gave in, the sooner it would all be over. 

Or that was at least what he thought until Qui Gon hunched over, his lips now on his neck, and pushed himself all the way in. Anakin never screamed that loud in his life. He was quick to beg for mercy all over again, sobbing from the pain. Qui Gon continued to have his way with him, thrusting deep into the writhing boy, screaming in agony. 

It didn’t get better, not in the slightest. The friction was what ailed Anakin the most. The lack of preparation and care made it the worst pain he had ever experienced all the years he had been alive. He wished he was dead. And he might as well have been. He had dissociated some time ago. His whole body was at Qui Gon’s control. The pain continued, though he couldn’t react anymore. It was like his brain shut off but everything else was left running. 

With a few more stabs into Anakin’s abused, assaulted hole, Qui Gon slumped over, weakly shoving himself in and out a few times more, filling the boy with the fruits of his labour. It was only when he fully repelled himself that Anakin came back. His eyelashes were heavy with his tears, his back was drenched in the other man’s sweat, and his hole was expelling the disgusting white fluids down his legs. Qui Gon had let him go, and Anakin’s body fell.  
He didn’t move an inch, he didn’t even try to run away. His rapist snuggled up against him, kissing him possessively, as if he was proud of himself. Anakin stared forward at the pillows in front of him. No emotion could be distinguished on his face other than hurt. 

“I love you, Ani.”

He didn’t answer.

“You can be mine, too. That way Obi Wan will be ours.”

Anakin flinched, feeling Qui Gon’s hand stroke his hair. His body was tense with his words. He had forgotten about Obi Wan. Anakin couldn’t even feel his legs. In his mind, he played the scene where he was finally able to move, and run to his Master and tell him what his lover had done to him. Would he be believed? What would Obi Wan do in response? He hoped Obi Wan would come to him to make things easier. All the evidence he needed was sprawled out in front of him.

* * *

Obi Wan never came. 

Anakin regained feeling in his body and was now standing at the window, looking out from pulled up blinds and separated curtains as if he was fully clothed. He just wanted to see the sun and feel its warmth against his frigid skin. He had lit a cigarette he had found as he trespassed Qui Gon’s pockets and belt compartment. Anakin never smoked before, but he felt like he needed it. He coughed during his first inhale, but quickly got the hang of it, not that it would matter anyway; he’d never smoke again. 

In his other hand held the scalpel that would end his life. He couldn’t live with himself anymore, not after that. He had been through many obstacles in his life, but he had never faced something he had absolutely no power over. Anakin couldn’t live with being weak. He had lost his first and final battle, and it was against the man he hated the most. It would be nothing short of impossible to ever look Obi Wan in his beautiful, cobalt eyes ever again. How could he face him? He was toxic, obsessive, and now to add to that, he was _used, worn, and irreparable._ All he wanted was to be Obi Wan’s, but that was taken away from him. And imagining the distress on his face if he told him what happened would break him anyway. It was just best to end it all now. 

Anakin put out the cigarette using the bandages on his arm, now loosely wrapped from all that had happened. 

He sighed. The last thing that crossed his mind was actually his mother. He had promised her that he would come back for her. He shed a tear knowing that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his vow. The thought of his caring, resplendent, hard working mother wasn’t enough to make him want to stay alive, not in this cruel world he dwelled in. He placed the blade to his neck, poking at the tender skin.

Using the Force, he called out to her, hoping that she would at least have the urge to think of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk i low key cried like a punk as I was writing this. I have a soft spot for Anakin yet I always make him a scapegoat(?) Poor thing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter for you cool cats because I've tortured yall with my run on sentences for 8 chapters

When Obi Wan found Anakin, his whole body went numb. His blood was sprayed all over the window. He didn’t rush over to him, not this time. He knew he was far too late. He picked up Anakin for the last time, and hugged him tight. He squeezed his padawan’s lifeless hand, then shut his cold, dead eyes. Obi Wan couldn’t even process the sight quick enough to cry out and mourn.

Qui Gon was in the closet, body folded under piles of fallen clothes. His demise was brought by his victim, who had used the force against him in his sleep. Obi Wan only discovered him days later when his corpse began to smell. It was the same day Anakin had been put to rest, the exact same day. It was all too much for the grieving man. 

That same day, he returned to Anakin's quarters and found his many, many pages. He didn't want the Skywalker legacy to end with a murderer. He burned them all behind the Temple.

He went mute for many months, but soon succumbed to his own sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read my indulgent mind fuck, especially everyone who bookmarked and commented and left kudos. I appreciate it. All 51 of you earned a special place in my heart. What a bunch of angels. <3
> 
> Now I have to take a few days to figure out what kind of messed up crap I'm gonna write next because I personally like putting myself on an emotional rollercoaster.
> 
> But again, thank you for reading!!!!!!!!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE STORY IS OVER IM SORRY
> 
> this is just a place holder until I finish some fan art Im gonna make for this story

This story is finished, but I wanted to leave a place for links for fan art I was gonna draw for this.


End file.
